


How Sette Frummagem First Stole a Life

by carolnuts



Category: Unsounded
Genre: Assault, Child Abuse, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Killing, Pickpockets, Robbery, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolnuts/pseuds/carolnuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Sette could nab the collector on his way to the capitol, she could bring home  5 years’ worth of taxes.  It would only take her 3 days to be back and she was a very good swiper…</p><p>Written for 2013 Unsounded Fanfic contest</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Sette Frummagem First Stole a Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unsounded](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/17613) by Ashley Cope. 



"Please da, please, please please please! I'll be good, ya’ll never have a reason to fear me safety!" pleaded Sette, jumping up and down while holding into her father's pants.  
"Aye, darlin’, let go of me leg!" said Nary-a-Care Frummagem, Sette's beloved father and criminal extraordinaire.  
"Only if ya let me go!" declared the little girl, clutching him tighter. “I can do this da! I can assure ya!!"  
"Now, that's a fancy word ya use. Who taught it to ya?" he complimented, giving up reason and lifting the girl in to the air.  
"Fat Willy from Oddie's! He says he's a poet da! Spend all day drinkin' like an archet and everyone's a poet!" laughed Sette, delighted with her father's attention "But don't ya change the subject da! Can I go? "  
He couldn't help but laugh at his girl antics, even if he was going to deny her request. Eight was far too young to be traveling to Melville on her own. Thought Sette was for sure smarter than most her age, she was not yet qualified to travel almost 45 miles without adult supervision. And a caravan of gypsies was by no means considered adult supervision.  
"Princess..." He started.  
“Don’t ya go all ‘princess’ on me da! Ya know I’m ready! Ya know how much gold we can make in Tax year! And me knows you aint got anyone in Melville! That’s at least 5000 people da! Think of the money!”  
Nary-a-Care though of the money. It really was a waste. He already got people on most of the cities in the tax route, but he still had some left behind… And between Proyas, Mighsen and Léa Monde, Melville might actually be the safest option. If Sette could nab the collector on his way to the capitol, she could bring home 5 years’ worth of taxes. It would only take her 3 days to be back and she was a very good swiper…  
But what was he thinking, he couldn’t let a child do an adult’s job! Even if there was no other option…  
“If ya don’t let me go, I’ll tell Doldrum ya wooin’ his wife.”  
Nary dropped her on the floor immediately.  
“How in the name of Yerta’s teats do ya know that?” demanded him, outraged.  
“I didn’t , ya just told me it.” Grinned Sette, her sharp little teeth oddly white against her tanned skin.  
“Ya have no proof.” Decided her father.  
“Doldrum ain’t need no proof. He’ll never trust ya again and his wife won’t have ya no more once she knows ya kiss’n’teller”  
“Aren’t ya too young to know ‘bout these things?” he said, worried about Jilla’s reaction. He could care less about Doldrum, it wasn’t as if the man had ever trusted him anyway.  
“Aye, but don’t change the subject again da! Can I go?”  
He was lost in thought, Jilla would spread word about him being with her, and word would get to Ikki, and Ikki would tell everyone about Mansy and someone would find out about Miya…  
“Da! Can I go?”  
“Aye. Aye, ya can go. Just don’t ya tell anyone ‘bout Jilla or I’ll shave ya head, ya hear me?”

 

The caravan roamed down the road surprisingly quickly – for a bunch of cart loads filled with people, that’s it. Sette was beginning to regret her decision, for she was sitting on a pile of trumpery for 5 hours now.  
Sette wasn’t very famous for her patience.  
“C’mon ya frog potatoes! I aint got all day!” she yelled at top lungs, her tail swinging with unreleased energy .  
“Zip it ya lil’ whipper-snapper !” retorted one of the gypsies matrons who were sitting in the cart. A baby sucked greedily on her big breast, and she seemed unashamed of showing it to the world. “Ya travelin’ for free with us and ya still has the guts to complain about us speed! A lad like ya ‘s supposed to be with his Ma, not travelin’ by ‘emselves ,me thinks! Next time ya knows, ya’ll wake up in Cresce!”  
“I aint no lad!” protested Sette, standing up so she could look into the woman’s eyes “I am Sette Frummagem and ya gypsy folk owns me da some good silver! Ya better not piss me off or this babe’ll wake up missing a mum!”  
“He’s my nephew, ya dirty Rakli!” hissed the older woman. She had big red eyes , and Sette wondered if she had copper blood. No surprise, she thought, these gypsies are all jumbled.  
“I don’t care” she replied immediately, knowing she had already won the discussion. The gypsies were in dept to the Frummagens, and they couldn’t deny the family a favor so simple. Sette could be as rude as she wanted, and they would have to deal with it.  
She made sure to be especially loud from that point on. 

The streets of Melville smelled just the same as the ones at home. Raw fish, ale, sweat and metal. There was a hidden scent of blood too, but that was nothing unexpected. Never fear blood Sette, her father had said, blood is inside all men, and ya should use men, not fear them.  
She sniffled again, careful to keep her tail from touching the dirty floor – normally, she could care less about her tail’s hygiene, but she needed an inn tonight and didn’t want to look like a beggar. She caught the gypsies with the corner of her eye, already selling their stuff not an hour after arriving, speaking hurriedly in that weird language of them. They would be heading back to Hanghorse in two days, and so was she – they were her ride, after all. She would have to sleep, of course, and track the collector, so that left her with about one day to actually go and rob him.  
After generally nipping the fisher folk of anything worthy in the first hour, stealing some food at the market and booking a room at the local inn, she decided to start on the actual task of finding and finishing the tax’s keeper.

Sette localized the collector with ease. All she had to do was follow the scent of copper and gold and leather – a bag full of coins- and the sound of tickling metal and people’s complains. The collector was a fat man, going from house to house with a sour face and heavy steps. Well, he aint keepin’ the money, she thought, following from a safe distance.  
Later ,after stalking him all day, she concluded that he was almost finished. He already had three bags full of coins, and a small village like this couldn’t possibly provide more than that for taxes.  
Sharteshane tax’s system was so simple even Sette understood it perfectly, though she never had any formal education. Every two years one had to pay a tenth of his land’s value. No land equals no taxes, and gigantic farms on the countryside meant hundred’s of coins. Little bourgeoisie villages like Melville, with their thousands of proprieties, meant that the government had to send to each one a collector, who would march from door to door and personally collect each debt.  
However, the government only received about half of the money collected, even less, depending on criminal’s audacity. The underworld families who ruled the country managed to steal a ridiculously high portion of the taxes, and no one seemed to mind it at all.  
“Us Frummagem, us run this city “, Sette’s father had once said, “The king’s a fool and the wards are made of shit. True power is with us, princess. Us control the ale’s price and the whore’s zones, the number of beggars on the streets and where one can walk safely. Ya should never fear any guard or any robber, they’re all our soldiers, one way or another.”  
A mutual and unofficial deal seemed to reign over the country for decades. With big landlords and their huge farms and proprieties – the ones who provided the juicy part of the tax’s incomes- , would supply the king and it’s court for another two years. Small town’s money, with it’s two, three bags of coins, would almost disappear into the outlaw’s pockets.  
Hence Sette’s quest. She was to rob the collector from Melville on his way back to the capitol and return home with the gypsies. Nothing like she’d never done before, so she wasn’t particularly worried.  
The men sighed, lazily scratching his balls as he went to another house. By then it was already nightfall ,and he smelled of sweat and dust, the strained way he carried his body and the coins tied to his back making him an easy target for any robber.  
He kept walking slowly, she jumped from the roof she was on.He stopped, looking to the sky , she landed swiftly in the dirty floor with no sound. The man yawned, she was right behind him. He took a step, mumbled about the time and…  
When the man screamed “Hey!You thief!” and started chasing for her, Sette was already on the run, a grin on her face and the money on her hands.  
She bolted through the narrow aleys, following no path and respecting no rules. The girl could hear the fat man’s voice following behind her, but he was way behind her, his screams getting more and more low. The girl felt the ground under her softening, she was almost outside the town streets now.  
I did it, though Sette, I did it I did it I did it. Da’s gonna be so proud, I’m gonna show everyone who’s the boss, Lucky Puppy will eat her shit and…  
Suddently, she was grabbed and forced against a wall, rough hands encircling her neck.  
“Lemme go!” she cried, gasping for air and shutting her eyes tight “Lemme go! I ain’t done nothin’ Ya have no prove! Lemme go!”  
“Open ya eyes, little bitch. Where’s the money?” asked a strong voice, definitely not the fat man’s one.  
Sette opened her eyes, and at once gasped at the sight of her opponent. He was a big man, with dark skin and long black hair. He was holding her with both hands, holding no weapon, and had a grin so huge it split his face in two.  
“I ain’t got no money! It’s true ! I ain’t no thief!” she begged, in vain tying to reach for the dagger in her shirt, “Please, sire, please! Lemme go! I have brothers to feed!”  
“Liar!” said the man, releasing one hand to threaten her with the other , “I saw ya robbin’ the tax’s man, and I saw ya runnin’. Who ya think ya’re, little bitch, comin’ to me town and actin’ like ya owns it all? Where’s the money? Where did ya hide it? Inside ya pussy? I can shove my …”  
He never finished the sentence. Once he loosed his grip she reached for her knife and, unthinkingly, stuck it into his eyeball.  
“Ouch! Ya little bitch!Ya whore! I’m gonna kill ya” he screamed, dropping her unceremoniously. He held his hands to his eye socket, from where big quantities of blood were now flowing. Sette had never smelled so many blood from such a close distance, and her heart was beating furiously against her ribcage.  
The blood now poured on the floor, forming a red, gruesome puddle. Sette was frozen against the wall, breathing hard and clutching to her dagger, unable to move an inch as the man cursed in front of her.  
He suddenly stopped agonizing, and stared her with one eye, left hand holding his face and looking terrifying.  
“Ya still here?” he screamed, “I’m gonna kill ya!”  
Sette saw everything in slow motion. She saw the man reach his right hand through his pocket, a silver glow appearing in his side and her own quick reflex.  
She stabbed him again, this time in the guts. He bent over with a grunch and she stabbed him in the back of his neck. She stabbed him in ribs and when he turned over, she stabbed him in the guts. Again and again and again. He coughed blood, and the smell of it made her dizzy.  
She stabbed him in the heart, he gasped, his body twisted, and he stopped moving at all.  
She stabbed him again. 

For a minute nothing happened, then she fell to the floor, soaked in blood, trembling and shivering in the deserted street.  
He’s dead, she though, I killed him,I killed him, I killed a man. I just killed a man.  
Then, she remembered her father’s words once more. “All men were born to die. If ya’re caught, don’t be afraid of killin’, cuz in this world, it’s killin’ or dyin’. Life’s a business, dyin’ is losing and killin’ is winnin’ thoroughly.”

No one ever found the body.

**Author's Note:**

> So, when reading unsounded I always noticed Sette never killed someone, and I wondered if she had had some kind of trauma…?  
> I tried to put her speech in a medieval-to-modern era form, and based Sharteshane tax’s system on England’s ( around the 14th century) and rakli is an actual gipsy word for “young, non gypsy girl”.  
> Nary’s sentence was based on one by Orson Scott Card and the cities names all have meanings…  
> This was basically exhausting and disappointing, but it’s all I have to offer, so here we go.  
> P.s. pardon my English mistakes, I’m not American (some of them were proposital, though)


End file.
